


Six Feet Under the Stars

by theroadgoeson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Maybe some angst, theres mostly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroadgoeson/pseuds/theroadgoeson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim takes some time off work after weeks of stress. Seb decides to take him to the Thames for a nice relaxing night out. Inspired and influenced heavily by All Time Low's Six Feet Under the Stars. Not sure if I'm going to include Mormor smut yet, but it's a possibility. For now just know there will be at least an awesome make out scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They were running. On the surface, James Moriarty doesn't seem like a running man, but he secretly enjoys it. He will only run, however, under one situation with only one man.

Sebastian ran alongside Jim. Both were breathing heavily after jumping from a building and taking off after a guard discovered them. It was rare when someone noticed their presence, but secretly, they lived for it. They were so perfect in their jobs that sometimes, the adrenaline from making a mistake was much needed and appreciated.

Admittedly, they looked somewhat ridiculous, Jim running in his posh suit and tie and Sebastian keeping up, decked out in black.

Jim looked behind him at the bulky guard, barely keeping up. He smiled his devious grin and ran ahead of Sebastian towards a fence. As he jumped on a crate and over the fence he yelled back at his sniper, "Jump!"

Sebastian followed Jim and they rounded a corner. The pair looked around and saw the guard holding a gun towards them. Jim smiled at guard then promptly ducked behind the sheild of the corner just before the guard pulled the trigger.

"Missed me," he sang deviously from behind the corner.

At that moment a black car pulled up and Jim and Sebastian stepped inside and sat down. They were both still a little breathless from the run, but suddenly they were both laughing.

"You need to loosen up more often, Boss, you're much more fun this way," Sebastian said as he removed his leather gloves.

"I don't need to loosen up, I'm always relaxed," Jim replied scathingly while loosening his skull patterned tie.

"And that's why you've been to the hair dresser twice in the past three months without getting a haircut."

"Shut up. You try ruling European crime and see how well you age."

Sebastian simply smiled in reply as he began pouring two glasses of champagne.

"To a fucked up hit."

"A fucked up hit."

They clinked their glasses together and unceremoniously downed the alcohol.

"But in all seriousness, Boss, we will have to try again in a couple weeks."

"Obviously," Jim answered superciliously, "but this time it will be more fun, since the target's bound to have heightened his security twofold after this."

"Hmm, we should screw up more often then," Sebastian said while pouring himself more champagne. "No offense, but work's been a bit boring lately."

"For you maybe, but it's been too goddamn stressful for me."

"Please, the brilliant James Moriarty, master of crime and illegality, stressed out?"

"Like I said before, you try ruling Europe and see how it feels."

"Rather not, Boss. That's your job."

Jim only sighed in response. He drank more champagne as his face slowly tightened, his eyebrows pulling in, his frown lines deepening, and the corners of his mouth pulling down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Seb asked cautiously.

"Talking doesn't help. You know that, Seb," Jim replied as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You could try it," Sebastian responded. "For once in your life," he added under his breath.

"Fine then," Jim said argumentatively, "The Italians want me to take out a parliament member who's been trying to interfere with the Neo-Nazis there, but he also owes me a favour which will be very useful when I decide to call it in. The Albanians want me to shut down the police investigation into their prostitution ring. The Russians want me to find a place to hide their bombs while they finalize their plan to blow up the arche de la defence. I'm trying to expand further into China and Japan, but the smugglers are meeting resistance in England since Sherlock cracked their code. And speaking of our old friend, he's solved five of my most interesting murders in the past month and is currently working on the sixth."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't say you're sorry, it's not your fault the world is filled with idiots," Jim snapped.

"Well I'm going to say I'm sorry because your life is currently shit and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Well of course there's nothing you can do. The best you could do is kill them all."

"And you know I would."

"And that's why I keep you around."

"Really? Because I was under the impression you enjoy my company," Sebastian said jokingly.

"But I really do, Seb. And coming from a psychopath, that's a big compliment," Jim replied seriously.

"Well then, take some advice from a friend- because that's what you just described- and take some time off work. Relax. Take a vacation. Sleep in... or whatever you do for rest. My point is, crime will always be there, so take a day off for yourself."

Jim sat pensively for a moment, organizing the pros and cons of Seb's plan in his head.

"You know what, Seb? I think I just might."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is pretty angsty.

The next night, Jim and Sebastian sat laughing on the couch, sharing a bottle of Jagermeister with countless bottles of beer laying on the coffee table. Seb took a hit of Jager and cringed as the liquid touched his tongue.

"Eugh, Jesus fucking Christ, that shit is disgusting," Seb said as he handed the bottle to Jim. Jim followed suit, taking a shot of the alcohol and shivering with distaste as it washed down his throat.

"Why are we drinking this again?" Jim asked as soon as he regained composure.

"Because it keeps you around and it keeps me here," Seb smiled, then gestured with the bottle to the beers on the table, "Also, we ran out of beer."

"You know I have wine. Or vodka, or whiskey," Jim said, setting the bottle of Jager down, making it at home in a sea of empty beer bottles and the drowned sorrows they carried in the dregs collected at their bottom.

"Yeah, you may, but this was unopened at the back of your liquor cabinet, looking very, very lonely," Seb replied with mocking puppy dog eyes, "It just wanted to be drunk. We couldn't leave it neglected." Jim scoffed and picked up the bottle. "I also haven't drank this since I was a private in the army."

"What could possibly possibly possess you to do something as stupid as that?"

"Join the army or try drinking Jagermeister on only my third time ever drinking?"

"The Jager. But since you mentioned it, why would you join the army? I never saw the point," Jim said, shakily setting down the bottle and preparing himself for what he thought would be a good story.

"Well, I joined the army when I was nineteen. I had spent one year out of high school, trying to find work. I worked on and off at this little Chinese restaurant- horrible food there too, by the way, but the pay wasn't too horrible. My parents were never the best, so I found a way out from under them as soon as I left high school. I lived in this horrible, horrible flat. It truly was disgusting; I'm still sure there were at least a hundred cum stains, but at least it was a place to sleep. But then I was fired from my job, the only minuscule bit of income I had. I couldn't pay the bills, I could barely even eat. It was then when I went to the army. Sure, I would be moved around, sent to war, but at least I would get paid, fed, and have a place to live. It also helps that I always liked hunting, and joining the army to go to war was just like hunting, except instead of deer or bird, it was terrorists."

Jim smiled to hear his sniper talk about his past, though it was sad and told the story of a sad, desperate man. Nonetheless, Jim loved Seb's past, regardless of how depressing it may have been.

"I made it through infantry training with flying colours. Apparently I was meant for combat, according to my drill sergeant. Anyway, I was so good at marksmanship, they sent me straight to training to be a sniper, forgoing the normal wait period. I was one of the only privates to ever train as a sniper, but it wasn't all that fun." Seb's eyes were distant, remembering back to his past- a past he rarely thought about, let alone told people about. "Most of the men there were seven, eight years older than me. They had experience, and I was just this private, fresh in the army, hell, barely out of school. People didn't talk to me, I spent all my nights alone, reading horror novels."

Jim frowned to hear this from Seb. His sniper, all alone in a strange, unforgiving land, it hurt him. He didn't like the idea.

"I may be a loner, Jim," Seb said, looking up into his boss's eyes, "but no one ever wants to be alone like that. I doubt even you would."

"No, Seb, I don't think I would like that."

"Anyway, It was our first day off in months. We could go off the training base for one night, as long as we were back by lights out. I went out, I found a liquor store, I bought it and drank it. I started pretty easy, just beer, maybe some wine, I can't remember. I started then on the harder stuff, whiskey, vodka, rum... Then I found a lovely little bottle of green stomach bile. It was disgusting, but I drank it. I was depressed and so far gone already that I didn't care what it tasted like. I only wanted more alcohol, more alcohol. Drown my sorrows, forget my life," Seb stopped. His eyes were still lost in the past. He tried his hardest since he left training to forget that time. So hard he tried, yet still it remained, buried in the back of his mind, only coming up when he felt depressed again or when he was completely wasted.

"I'm sorry, Seb. That wasn't nearly as amusing as I thought it would be," Jim said, eyes downcast and staring at his hands in his lap.

"No, guess it wasn't," Seb replied. Suddenly he smiled, picked up the bottle, and grabbed the TV remote. He turned it on to some horribly fake and annoying reality show. "But, Jim, the least we could do is drink away our pain while laughing at the miserable lives of others. And that is why reality television was invented."

They spent the rest of the night like that, sitting together on the couch and watching the worst possible trash television they could find. They laughed and they complained. "The world is going to hell," they said, and fuck if it wasn't true. They finished the bottle of Jager, then went to a bottle of wine. Eventually, Jim fell asleep, slumped against Seb's shoulder. Sebastian petted his head, combed his fingers through the strands of hair and savoured the feeling. Maybe he was drunk, but he liked this. Hell, he loved it. He loved being around Jim when he was relaxed and human, not the robot or monster he was on the job. Eventually, he moved his ministrations to Jim's face, brushing lightly at his cheek and the stubble around his jaw, enjoying the slight itch they left on his hand. Seb smiled, alcohol clouding his mind. Normally he wouldn't allow himself to do this, Jim was his boss, goddammit, but the insane amount of alcohol he ingested just would not allow him to stop this train of thought.

He spent a while, just looking at Jim, taking in his every feature. The span of his forehead, wrinkled by a few lines of worry, his eyes, closed now with rest, a position they were rarely found in. The lines around his eyes were faint in rest, but still there, showing evidence of the times Jim smiled, sometimes with happiness, more often with twisted pleasure. Seb's eyes lingered for a moment on the circles underneath Jim's eyes. He brushed them lightly with his thumb. The darkness was disheartening; Jim really did need to relax more often. Seb passed over the under-eye circles and moved down to his lips, the curve of the cupid's bow and the soft plumpness of the lower lip. Seb brought his fingers down and fleetingly touched them to Jim's lips.

Seb smiled fondly down at his boss. Figuring he should probably leave, well, go to sleep in the guest bedroom, considering he was so drunk he could barely stand. He picked Jim up, cradling his head against his shoulder, and stood. He carried Jim to his bedroom, lifted the covers and laid him down. He tucked him in and smiled fondly at the sleeping form. Funny how such a terrifying man when he was awake could look so gentle and unassuming when asleep.

Seb walked out of the room and softly shut the door behind him. He walked to the guest bedroom, where he had, over time, amassed a small collection of sleep wear from the times he had spent the night, mostly from drinking but sometimes he stayed because there was legitimate work to be done. Seb went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of sweats. He removed his shirt and trousers and put on the sweats. He crawled into bed and lied down. He turned on his side and shut his eyes.

With his eyes closed, he thought over the night with his alcohol laden brain. He decided that he really kind of liked his boss. Fuck, he could possibly love him. The two had been great friends for a while now, sometimes Seb thought he was the closest to Jim anyone had ever been. So, while his mind still wouldn't work properly because of the booze, he decided, what the hell? He would take his boss out on a date.


End file.
